


This is the end

by Perching_Owl



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Starvation, Whipping, Whump, Whumptober 2020, magical healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perching_Owl/pseuds/Perching_Owl
Summary: For the moment, no one has come to him. Claude hasn't seen food or water in a long while. But he doesn't know how a long awhile is. He doesn't know what day it is, doesn't know how long he has spent locked, doesn't know how long his back has gone untreated.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Claude von Riegan
Kudos: 25
Collections: Perching_Owl's Whumptober 2020 Collection





	This is the end

**Author's Note:**

> 31st fill for the [whumptober 2020](https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/)! This is another fanfic, which got suddenly much darker as I started writing the tags, so please check them. 
> 
> No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE: Experiment | **Whipped** | **Left for Dead**
> 
> Here is the [ Link](https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/post/628055505485561856/whumptober-2020-updated) for the upcoming -oh, wait no prompts anymore because I finished whumptober, which I still cannot believe :D
> 
> Title is taken from 'Skyfall' by Adele.

Claude wakes up, shivering. The cold has seeped into him so thoroughly he cannot be sure how warmth feels anymore. It’s like a distant memory of the sun on his face, a blanket wrapped around him or a hot bowl of soup. Shivers are wreaking his body, causing his crusted over wounds to pull and Claude feels one of them opening up again. Blood begins to drop from the whip marks on his back, running over his shoulders and dripping onto the floor. A stronger shiver runs through him, a pained whine escaping him as he moves to roll himself into a tighter ball, trying to starve off the cold.

The pain of the whipping had been excruciating. At some point he had passed out, screaming his throat hoarse, not being able to hold onto the pain any longer. It hurts, it hurts so much and yet he doesn't know when it is going to stop.

For the moment, no one has come to him. He hasn't seen food or water in a long while. But he doesn't know how a long awhile is. He doesn't know what day it is, doesn't know how long he has spent locked, doesn't know how long his back has gone untreated. Even the length of his wounds healing is treacherous as they keep opening up at the slightest movements.

Claude isn't sure how the empire got to him. He had been on the ship when a group of flyers had reached it. The fight had been long and brutal. In the end, they had taken him to Enbarr, the ship burning in the ocean below. He had been relieved when they hadn't got his bow. Hopefully, Byleth had used it against many of the Empire’s soldiers. It’s of no use to him now, as he has been thrown him into a prison cell and then-

He had been interrogated, drowned, and whipped. It’s the last that had seared into his brain. He recalls the whip hitting his back, again and again, racking fire over his back, crisscrossing and flaying the skin of his back. He hadn't answered any questions, hadn't known to answer them anyway, his voice is too hoarse from screaming.

But they haven't come for him in a while. He isn't even sure they have given him food or water today. Whatever today is. It leaves him curled up on the ice-cold floor, blood and other body fluids covering him. He is shivering and yet, when his hand brushes over his face, he realises how hot his skin is. Is he running a fever?

Perhaps he should try to get out of here- but he can barely move, everything hurting and painful. He groans. He could try to get closer to the door. Maybe if he calls out. His voice will be weak, but if he is closer to the door. It’s a final attempt at defiance. They won’t break his spirit, even if they ruin his body. He pushes himself up on his arms. They tremble, weak as he hasn't eaten, weak as he hasn't received any medical attention. His throat is parched. He wonders if he will even get a sound out closer to the door of his cell.

He gets on his knees, feeling the hard floor under his knees. Another low sound passes his lips. On his hands and knees now, Claude tries to press on. His whole body is weak and trembling, barely able to hold him. Yet he must, he has to, he has to make himself known.

Is he dying?

The thought cuts through him, harsh, and his heartbeat quickens. He doesn't want to die, but if they- have they left him to die? But why? Why leave him to this excruciating death?

Claude's hand gives away. He falls to the ground. It jars his back, and a scream is ripped from him. His entire back is on fire again, he can barely breathe from the pain and instead, he remains lying stretched out on the floor, hand stretched out towards the door.

He is going to die, Claude thinks.

His vision is darkening, shivers now wreaking through his body. The scream has made his throats hurt again, tearing at his throat. He coughs, and it hurts, his entire body trembling. Exhaustion has settled deep within him. He just wants to sleep. Maybe to never wake up-

Exhaling, Claude puts his head down, resting against the cold floor. It eases the heat that has been radiating from his forehead. He is still so tired, exhausted. For a moment, he imagines what it would be like - to be among his friends in his final moments, to have them with him, to ease the pain.

Regret begins to fill at never being able to unite Fodlan and Almyra, never even being able to see Almyra again. For a brief moment, he wonders if Dimitri would reach out to Alymra as soon as he can. He is going to be a great king, Claude thinks, he had grown so much, lost so much.

His thoughts drift again, lingering on Dimitri. If he should have reached out more, reached out sooner to the man. Light falls on his face, and he guesses that must be it, the light at the end before passing on. Well, he is going to solve that final puzzle now, isn’t he? A sigh escapes and for a brief moment, he thinks he hears Dimitri calling out.

* * *

Claude wakes with a gasp. He doesn't expect to wake at all, but from one moment to the next pain pulls him from unconsciousness. His back is on fire, a groan ripped from his throat. Tremors run through his body. Another moan passes his lips.

A hand brushes over his brow, gentle murmurs easing some of the tension he has been feeling, and he relaxes at the soft sound.

Only slowly he begins to take in more, such as him lying on the front, someone is standing behind him and he hears the low hum of magic, feels it seeping into him, mending broken skin. He opens his eyes. Light falls into the room, bright, almost too bright after he has spent a long time inside the cell. It falls on soft blonde waves of hair in front of him, and Claude blinks.

'Dimitri?' Claude asks, words slurred.

'Yes,' Dimitri responds, 'it's me. Are you in a lot of pain?'

Claude frowns. The fire in his back has died down, but there is still some remaining, 'It's manageable.'

He takes in more from the man in front of him, a frown appearing on his face. 'You are shirtless?'

Dimitri chuckles, embarrassment colouring his cheeks red, 'I had been wounded in the shoulder.' He points towards his left shoulder, which has been bandaged. ‘But are you okay?'

'I think I will be,' Claude mutters. A yawn escapes him. Exhaustion has set in and he feels drowsy as he isn't in pain anymore. For a brief moment, he clings to consciousness. Dimitri brushes over his hair again, his thumb brushing over Claude's brow again.

'It's alright,' Dimitri mutters. 'Rest.'

‘Since your kingliness is keeping watch,’ passes Claude’s lips before he does as he is told, his eyes falling shut and slipping into a dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos and constructive criticism appreciated :) Thank you for reading!


End file.
